


Six Degrees

by dean_n_pie



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, M/M, Songfic, hopeful ending i guess, i just love the script, literally i dont know what this is just run with it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-08
Updated: 2014-07-08
Packaged: 2018-02-07 22:54:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1917087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dean_n_pie/pseuds/dean_n_pie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are six degrees of separation that you go through after a break up. And its only after the last one when you can maybe, with a great bit of luck, make anything more from it. This is Sam's story.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Six Degrees

**Author's Note:**

  * For [celestiasexual](https://archiveofourown.org/users/celestiasexual/gifts).



> idek.

_First, you think the worst is a broken heart_

_What's gonna kill you is the second part_

_And the third is when your world splits down the middle_

_And, fourth, you're gonna think that you fixed yourself_

_Fifth, you see them out with someone else_

_And the sixth is when you admit you may have fucked up a little_

_\--_

 

 1.

 

"Sam, it's over."

 

Sam looks up from the heavy law book he had been reading. Gabriel is standing framed in the doorway, duffel bag slung over his shoulder. He is shifting restlessly from foot to foot, looking resolutely over Sam's shoulder.

 

"What?" Sam asks, not sure that he heard Gabriel right. A quick glance at the clock shows that it's late, and Sam closes the book when Gabriel gives a soft sigh. The light barely illuminates Gabriel's face, and his torso is hidden in shadow. Sam can barely make out the blank mask of his face, and his stomach roils at the sight.

 

"Sam, you heard me." Gabriel's voice is clipped, short; Sam's heart starts beating irrationally fast as Gabriel speaks, beginning to feel a tightness in his chest. Gabriel shifts, leaning against the doorframe and subtly hiking the duffel higher on his shoulder. "We're over."

 

"Wait, what?" Sam feels as though he's been hit by a truck, almost physically reeling at Gabriel's words. "Why are you saying this?"

 

"Sam, we're too different. I mean, we don't want the same things in life." Sam opens his mouth to protest, but Gabriel doesn't let him get a single word in. "Honestly, how many times have we seen each other this week?"

 

"I've been busy-"

 

"With school, I know. Law school is tough, I've heard."

 

Sam can feel himself bristling at the tone in Gabriel's words, sounding so much like his father in that moment. He crosses his arms and tosses the book on the desk after carefully dog-earing it. "What do you mean by that?"

 

Gabriel sighs, muttering. "I've barely seen you at all this week, Sam. Okay? We live in the same frigging apartment and I think I see people from work more often than I see you."

 

"Gabriel," Sam starts, cut off when Gabriel raises a hand.

 

"Just, let me finish okay?" Gabriel takes a deep breath before stepping forward and tossing the bag onto a nearby chair. Sam eyes the bag as it lands, turning a questioning eyebrow toward Gabriel. Gabriel isn't looking at him, however, and Sam is forced to wait for an explanation.

 

"Sam - it's been a great two years, you know it has. But lately, I just feel like we're two completely different people. You're at school way more often than before, and when you're home it's like you're not even here. You're absorbed in your books and your papers - and don't misunderstand me, I know that shits important, but I feel like you're never actually here. And it actually really fucking hurts.

 

"I think you've kissed me goodbye three times in the past four months. We're changing, Sam, and I don't -" Gabriel takes a shuddering breath but doesn't stop, finally looking up to meet Sam's eyes. "I don't think I'm in love with you anymore, Sam."

 

Sam stops breathing for a second as Gabriel's words hit him. His lips part, but no sound comes out. It's like a truck has come along and hit him with no warning, and Sam doesn't know how to react.

 

"I'm sorry," Gabriel says, quiet now, eyes flicking guiltily between Sam's blank gaze and the duffel sitting on the armchair.

 

"Yeah. Me too," Sam almost whispers, loud enough for Gabriel to hear it clearly. Gabriel flinches at the words, and Sam almost feels guilty. "But I don't know why you're only blaming me. I mean, if you didn't like how I was acting, why didn't you speak up?"

 

Gabriel is chewing the inside of his cheek, tilting his head and looking at Sam. "Because I knew that nothing I said would work. And I tried, Sam. You just weren't hearing me." His smile is a little broken now, and Sam can detect the cracks in his voice. Gabriel is pretending to be calm and decisive, but Sam's known him long enough to be able to see the cracks.

 

"Wait, Gabriel... I'm sorry, for - for everything, but we can work this out. You don't have to leave. Please, just stay." Sam can tell that his own voice is weak, and he almost cries out when Gabriel picks up the duffel bag from the chair and moves to stand. The clock strikes an hour, counting off six tolls. Gabriel looks at the clock and makes a face toward Sam, full of regret and pain.

 

Sam's own face is a mix of confusion and sadness, watching as Gabriel shoulders the bag and begins to turn away. Almost of its own volition, Sam's hand shoots out and grabs onto Gabriel's wrist. Gabriel turns back with a surprised look on his face, gaze flicking up to meet Sam's eyes.

 

"Wait," Sam chokes out, feeling the tightness in his chest build up to an almost unbearable high. He takes a moment to compose himself, feeling the pressure between his eyes skyrocket. "Gabriel, just sit back down, we can talk. I can change."

 

Almost gently, Gabriel pulls Sam's hand from where it clutches his wrist. The light bends upon his face, catching his brow in a sympathetic expression. He takes a step back, face once again becoming blank.

 

"Sam. I don't love you anymore," Gabriel says, voice steady and even for the first time that night. Sam's heart feels as though it's being torn from his chest at every word. He restrains himself from hunching over, trying to alleviate the pain.

 

"Gabriel -"

 

"No, Sam." Gabriel's voice is final, and he turns away for the last time, shutting the door gently.

 

Sam is left alone in the apartment, surrounded by absolute silence. He can still hear Gabriel's phantom laughter and curls in on himself, back against the couch. He doesn't know how he ended up on the floor, and his face is pressed into his knees as tears begin falling down his face. The only thing he's aware of is the pain in his chest and pressure behind his eyes, the passage of time meaning nothing to him.

 

\--

 

 2.

 

Gabriel is laughing, shoving at Sam's shoulder. They're both running, rain falling down their faces and slicking their hair down. Lightning flashes and Sam swears, pulling on Gabriel's hand to make him go faster. They had been in a park, going on a picnic date, when the rain had come and they had been forced to find shelter. Thunder crashes around them as they run, laughing and holding hands. Finally they find shelter under a deserted picnic lodge as the sky grows darker. The rain falls harder, and Sam can barely make out the parking lot through the water. Lighting strikes and Gabriel jumps, hand clenching hard around Sam's, twisting their fingers closer together. He smiles sheepishly, glancing up at Sam.

 

Sam just laughs softly, fondly reaching out to rest his hand on Gabriel's hip. Gabriel smirks, pulling Sam in closer by the collar of his shirt. Sam's chin rests on Gabriel's head as they hug tightly, Gabriel smiling into his neck. Gabriel pulls back slightly and Sam follows, confused. The thunder has stopped and it's just raining slightly, sprinkling. The sun is beginning to come out and Gabriel's face breaks into a grin, pointing up at the sky.

 

"Sam, it's a rainbow!" he says, grabbing at Sam's hand and pulling him out into the rain. A rainbow is curving around the trees, only faintly visible. Sam looks at Gabriel with unmitigated fondness, pulling at Gabriel's shoulder until he turns to face him. Sam bends his head down, pressing his lips to Gabriel's. He can feel Gabriel smirking against his lips, pushing back into the kiss and wrapping his arms around Sam's neck. Sam's hands are clutching at Gabriel's hips as he kisses Gabriel, both of them standing in the middle of an empty park.

 

The rain is still falling as they kiss, plastering Sam's hair to his forehead and dampening their clothes. He pulls away with a smile, laughing at Gabriel's wet hair. It has fallen into disarray and Sam ruffles it, making it spike and stand up all over the place. Gabriel mutters and reaches a hand up to flatten it back down, mussing Sam's hair in retaliation. Sam pushes at Gabriel and they fall back in the grass, Sam somehow twisting his body as they fall so Gabriel isn't crushed under him.

 

Sam groans as he hits the ground, eyes blinking open wearily. He turns over and stretches his arm out. The space beside him is cool, and there's no hint of Gabriel other than a faint scent of his cologne. Sam's mind races, trying to figure out why Gabriel wouldn't be in bed. Normally he sleeps in later than Sam does, and when he doesn't he gets up to make breakfast for the two of them. Sam can't smell anything coming from the kitchen.

 

His head hurts, and he hurriedly puts pants on before stumbling to the living room. All the lights are off in the apartment and there is no sign of Gabriel anywhere. A lone book rests on the end table, glaringly out in the open. The memories of the previous night rush back and Sam closes his eyes against the onslaught. The pain is overwhelming, and Sam falls into an empty armchair, trembling.

 

The dream seems far-off now, a distant memory of when they were happy and young in love. Sam bends and rests his head in his hands. His palms dig into his eyes, trying and failing to stave off the pressure behind his eyes. A sob wracks through his body and he slumps further, unable to fight off the tears any longer.

 

\--

 

3.

 

Sam is coming home from school, back to the apartment he wasn't able to sell. It's been a week since Gabriel left, and it's still too soon to start searching for another place. He's still holding out hope that Gabriel will come back, say he's sorry and that he still loves Sam.

 

Sam's enough of a realist to know that it won't actually happen.

 

He's dreamt of Gabriel for the past five nights, unable to get him out of his head and move on. Dean's been over a lot of the time to help out, but Castiel has stayed away. Dean says it's because he's ashamed of what Gabriel did to Sam, but Sam knows it's because Castiel has a stronger loyalty to Gabriel, his brother, than he does to Sam. He's almost certain that when Dean comes to see him, Castiel goes to talk to Gabriel.

 

Sam tries to spend all his time outside of the apartment, unable to bear seeing all their pictures and all of Gabriel's stuff sitting where he left it, untouched. Tonight Dean's taking him out to a bar where Sam can drink and try to forget. Dean usually doesn't let him get too drunk, and Sam kind of resents him for that. He's learned that it's the only way he won't dream of Gabriel at night. But Dean's not paying as much attention tonight, so he grabs a few vodka shots when Dean isn't looking.

 

Dean's been acting shifty all night, glancing at his phone every few minutes and checking the time almost obsessively. Sam doesn't say anything and moves, drinking as much as he's allowed and relishing the feel of the haze around his mind. Abruptly, Dean grabs onto his shoulder and pulls him off the bar stool.

 

"Okay, Sammy, you've had enough. Time to go." Dean tosses a couple bills onto the bar counter, and the bartender snaps them up with a smile and a wink in Dean's direction. "No way in hell are you driving like this."

 

It's raining lightly outside, and Sam laughs, feeling it run down the sides of his face.

 

"God, you're plastered. You barely had anything to drink, you lightweight." Dean's tone is teasing, and Sam shoves uncoordinatedly at his arm before stumbling off-balance. Dean chuckles and wraps Sam's arm around his broad shoulders, helping him stay upright as Sam tips. Somehow, they make it to the car in one-piece, and Dean shoves Sam into the backseat, laying him down.

 

"You gonna vomit?" Dean asks, raising an eyebrow at Sam. Sam giggles and shakes his head, resting his head against the opposite door. Dean just shakes his head and mutters "Lightweight," again. He gets into the front seat while Sam lays cramped in the back, stretching his hand up to touch the initials carved into the top of the car.

 

The car ride seems shorter than usual, but that might just be Sam's alcohol-induced mind screwing with him. Dean pulls open the car door and Sam's head flops back onto the edge of the car seat. He feels as Dean tugs on his arms and pushes himself out with his feet. Dean grunts and helps him up again, making their way toward Sam's apartment.

 

"Well, at least now we know you're a happy drunk." Dean's never been with Sam when he's this drunk, it's normally - that person who Sam's trying not to think about. He and Dean finally make it to Sam's door and Sam fumbles in his pocket for his key. Dean grabs it from his hand and opens the door, watching Sam warily as he walks in.

 

The minute Sam walks in he gets an overwhelming sensation of wrongness - that something's out of place.

 

He spins around to face the mantle and almost falls to his knees. Suddenly and unpleasantly, he's sober again, and there's a distinct pain at the back of his mind. His voice comes out broken, a soft noise of absolute denial.

 

Almost all of the pictures on the mantle are gone, the ones of Sam and Gabriel and the ones of Gabriel alone. The only ones remaining are the ones of Sam. He glances toward the end table, where Gabriel's dumb magazines usually rested. They're gone as well, and the space where his coffee cup always sat is empty as well. Sam feels as though he's gonna be sick, and grabs onto the arm of the sofa, hunched over.

 

Dean is next to him in a minute, grabbing at his shoulders. "Sammy, you ok?" His face is sympathetic but also guilty, and Sam doesn't know how to respond. There's one thought reverberating through his mind, and he extricates himself from Dean's grip and goes into his and Gabriel's shared bedroom. All of Gabriel's little knickknacks are gone, almost like they had never been there in the first place.

 

"What happened?" His voice is gravelly and it cracks halfway through the question, turning his eyes on Dean. Dean bites his cheek, hands firmly stuck in his pockets.

 

"Gabe - He texted Cas, trying to find a way to get you out of the house so that he could come back and grab his stuff. I was hanging with Cas and Charlie, and Cas asked me," Dean explained, sinking down into the armchair and glancing apologetically up at Sam. Sam wasn't moving, eyes locked on the blank picture frame next to Dean's chair. "It was killing you, man. Seeing all his shit everywhere? Every time I saw you, there were more bags under your eyes and you looked like complete shit."

 

He pauses, almost like he's waiting for Sam to make a quip, but Sam is trying to take everything in, breathing picking up. Gabriel - the last trace of Gabriel is gone, even the smell of his cologne on the pillow next to Sam's. Dean continues on, rubbing a tired hand along his face. "Gabriel thought that you seeing him wouldn't be good for either of you, so he tried to spare you the pain. Don't get me wrong, he's a douchebag and I kind of hate him, but he's not sticking around and leading you on."

 

Sam chokes out a sob, then, finally unfreezing. Dean's words register, and then his chest bursts with an ache, bone-deep and exhausting. He's collapsing before he knows it, knees crashing hard to the wooden floor. Dean wraps him in a hug, arms holding him together as he tries not to fall apart.

 

\--

 

4.

 

"Dean, just let me go, I'm fine," Sam slurs, stumbling over to the couch and collapsing. Dean hovers around him, looking over him with concern. It's been two weeks since Gabriel left, and Sam's been feeling better. At least, that's what he's been telling himself. He only seems to be "better" after his third beer, but before the television starts going in and out of focus. Dean's come over most of those nights, trying to make sure Sam hasn't killed himself.

 

He hasn't said so, per say, but Sam knows his brother well enough to read between the lines. And Sam can't blame him, either. Or, rather. couldn't; at the beginning, Sam did consider ending it after his ninth or tenth beer, but Dean's constant presence helped him stay grounded.

 

Castiel had come over one or two times, almost shamefully apologizing for Gabriel's actions. At least, until Sam had put a stop to it the first night. Dean had looked proud of him for that one, but Sam just felt... numb.

 

But he was okay. Or, he was gonna be okay. Maybe. There was a chance. For some reason, his alcohol-muddled brain had logic'd that if he could get Dean to believe he was okay and copacetic and functional, then maybe he'd actually become that way. Kind of like a twisted version of the power of suggestion.

 

Dean is still standing over him, concern marking his features, and Sam tries to alleviate some of the tension on his face. "Dean, I'll be fine. Really." He waves Dean away with a grin, trying to settle himself comfortably on the couch. He ends up with his face mashed into the side of it, so he's most likely not as sober as he's pretending (failing) to be. Dean doesn't look convinced, either, but Sam just can't have him around.

 

It's not like he's going to do anything stupid. That only happened the first few days after The End, as Sam's begun to refer to it in his own mind. Tonight he just wants to wallow, maybe watch a stupid movie on TV that Gabriel would have hated, and be alone. It's nothing against Dean, but there's no way for Sam to say it without him getting a little offended. No matter how it's explained to him.

 

So he's resigned himself to proving that he's okay to be left alone. Which means he actually does have to be okay enough for Dean to leave. Dean's the only one who's ever seen through his bullshit (apart from Gabriel, of course, but Sam doesn't really count him anymore). And if Dean isn't convinced, he won't go anywhere.

 

Sam turns over on the couch and buries his head into the side, hand searching blindly for the remote. Dean doesn't look comfortable with leaving, arms folded across his chest.

 

"Sam, you don't seem to be that okay, and it's still pretty soon after everything happened..." Dean looks torn, almost as though he wants to leave (probably to get back to Cas, Sam thinks) but isn't willing to risk his brother for it. "I just don't want you to make a rash decision, okay?"

 

"I won't," Sam says, telling the truth. The pain itself has dulled to a soft ache, but Sam can deal with that. It's not enough to push him over the edge. Whether it's from the lack of seeing or communicating at all with Gabriel (Sam had woken up one morning with Gabriel's name and number deleted from his phone. Dean had been to blame for that, and had also been on the receiving end of some serious punches from Sam after he found out), Sam feels better, almost like he's starting to move on. The road is gonna be a long and hard one, but at least Sam doesn't freeze up at the mere mention of Gabriel's name anymore.

 

But Sam does notice the constant missing presence by his side almost daily, and he still feels the depression when it hits in the dark, playing on his dreams. More often than not he dreams of Gabriel, in various situations with which he's still trying to reconcile won't be happening.

 

It's harder than he thought. Which is another reason why he wants Dean out of his apartment. He just wants a night to himself to think.

 

"Please, Dean, just... I'll call if it gets bad, I promise, I just - need to be alone right now," Sam says, wincing when the hurt shows on Dean's face. "I need to consider some things and try to move on, okay?"

 

Dean's face is still closed off, but he wordlessly nods, lips pressed together in a close line. "Fine. You win. But I swear, if I hear of anything bad happening and you didn't call me, I'll skin you, baby brother."

 

Sam doesn't feel the effects of the alcohol as much anymore, but that doesn't stop him from sitting up to wrap Dean in a hug. "Thanks. I just need to think. In quiet."

 

"Whatever." But Dean's grinning fondly down at him now, pushing him away and ruffling his hair. Sam pulls one of his legendary bitchfaces and pulls away from Dean, falling back-first to splay out on the couch. They wait in silence for another short moment before Dean huffs out a breath and turns around, tossing the keys to the Impala around in his hand. "I'm out, kid. Don't be stupid."

 

"Am I ever?" Sam says with a shit-eating grin, laughing as Dean rolls his eyes and shuts the door. The apartment is quiet apart from the sounds of his laughter, which die down into nothingness quickly after. It's dark and bleak, and Sam turns on the TV, trying to distract himself from the tumult within his mind.

 

He laughs at a dumb joke. The clock ticks. He doesn't sleep, and the sun begins to rise again, greeting a new day.

 

A circle, unbroken.

 

He'll be okay.

 

\--

 

5.

 

"C'mon, man, you haven't been out of the apartment for a month."

 

"Yeah, I have. Loads, actually."

 

"Sam, going to the bar to get steaming drunk on a binge don't equal 'going outside'," Dean says, frowning at him over a breakfast of pancakes and bacon. Castiel and Charlie are also at the apartment. apparently only there as backup to help drag Sam out of the apartment. "You need a haircut, dude. And a good shave."

 

Sam just grunts, shoveling more bacon into his mouth. It's been a month and a half since The End, and Sam wants nothing more than to kill the day by sitting inside and reading his textbooks. School has gotten steadily more difficult, but he's refused to let the break-up affect his grades.

 

It was a week ago when Sam was able to start referring to it as such. That's when he realized that he was okay, that he's moved on at least a little, and could look at the event with more perspective and detachment.

 

"Let's go, on me. Carnival is open today, let's go hit up some booths, get hit on by a couple of crazy carnies who have three teeth each, and have a kickass time. Whaddaya say?" Sam doesn't say anything, prompting Charlie and Castiel to agree, albeit with the former putting a lot more enthusiasm to her agreement.

 

He considers for a second, glancing at his reflection in the mirror taped to the fridge. His hair is getting more shaggy than usual, and maybe it would be fun to get out of the stuffy house, always silent and louder than it had ever been when Gabriel still lived in it.

 

"Sure," he says, shrugging. Charlie grins over at him, leaning down to kiss his cheek. Dean and Castiel exchange relieved grins that Sam doesn't think he was supposed to see, but he doesn't mention it. He can't exactly blame them, either.

 

After a quick change of clothes they're off, first heading to the salon where Pamela works. She's done Sam's hair since he turned 12, the same year she moved to Lawrence. She moonlights as a psychic, working closely with Missouri Moseley. Sam's learned not to question it.

 

Thankfully, Pamela doesn't mention anything about Gabriel, and it might have been because Dean tipped her off before they came, but Sam doesn't complain all the same. It's kind of freeing to be with someone who's not constantly acting as though they are walking on glass where he's concerned. The haircut itself takes no time at all, Pam chatting about trivial things to make the time go by faster. Sam watches himself in the mirror, noticing small changes about himself.

 

His eyes look more tired, more beaten down. But the circles under his eyes have lessened, making him look more alert and put together. He doesn't look constantly hung-over anymore, probably helped by the fact that Dean started removing the alcohol from the apartment. Sam knows how close he came to becoming an alcoholic, and though he cursed Dean out at the time, he is thankful for his brother's help.

 

Charlie squeals when he comes out, reaching up in vain to try and ruffle his hair. Pamela had even been kind enough to shave him, getting rid of the month-long growth of hair. Sam bats her hand away with a laugh, pulling her into a spontaneous hug. She looks confused but happy when he lets go, red hair bobbing in the wind.

 

"To the carnival!" she cries, looping her arms through Sam and Dean's. Dean grabs onto Castiel's hand before he gets left behind, tugging him along with them. Sam lets out a bark of laughter as they hurry down the road to the field where the carnival is held every year. They hear it before they can even see it, listening for the tell-tale creak of the Ferris Wheel or the cries of little kids.

 

They pay at the gate and grab tickets; Sam is determined to make this outing a good one, and he drags Charlie over to the first roller coaster he sees. Her face pales, and she backs away slowly, shaking her head.

 

Sam uses what Dean likes to call his "puppy dog eyes" and Charlie gives in, gripping his hand tightly. They spin around, going upside down and side to side until she looks green and he feels like he's about to be sick. They stumble off, Charlie leaning heavily on him, chuckling and swaying. Sam feels as though he's completely off balance, and grins.

 

It's nice to have a distraction. Sometimes.

 

His eyes flick to the left, catching on a gleam of sunlight. The sun reflects off of golden-colored hair, giving it a ethereal shine.

 

It's Gabriel. Sitting there at a small picnic table, across from a beautiful dark-skinned brunette. She looks incredibly bored, while Gabriel is trying in vain to steal a kiss.

 

Sam's chest burns. Charlie glances over at him when he stops moving, and follows his gaze, swearing under her breath. She tugs on Sam's arm, trying to turn him around. But he won't move, watching as Gabriel finally succeeds and pulls the girl to him in a chaste kiss.

 

Sam wants to cry. Or scream. Or maybe punch someone.

 

Or all three.

 

Charlie looks annoyed and nervous, glaring at Gabriel and pulling harder on Sam's arm. "C'mon, Sam, let's just leave."

 

Sam finally gives in, lets Charlie tug him away. Before he can turn, Gabriel flicks his head around, pinning Sam with his golden stare. He doesn't move for a second, eyes locked with Gabriel's, before Gabriel gives a half-hearted attempt at a wave and a smile.

 

Sam turns around and walks away.

 

He will be okay. He will.

 

He isn't.

 

\--

 

6.

 

_"Hello?"_

 

"Gabriel?"

 

A pause. Then, " _Sam. How did you get this number?_ "

 

"Castiel."

 

A snort. " _I knew he'd be on your side in this._ "

 

"Can you blame him?" A soft whisper, tinged with hurt.

 

A sigh. " _Sam, this - this isn't gonna do anything. You know that right?_ "

 

"Hey, you know how stubborn I can be."

 

" _What do you want, Sam?_ "

 

"To talk. If not for anything else, at least for some closure."

 

" _Sam... we talked about it already._ "

 

"No we didn't. You talked. I listened. Now it's your turn."

 

An annoyed huff of breath. " _Fine. Talk._ "

 

A relieved grin. "Thanks."

 

"Gabriel - I still love you, okay? I want to start by telling you that. And I'm not expecting anything from this, I just - I need to do this so I can move in. Everything ended badly, and I want to try and change that."

 

No response.

 

"Okay, then. Can we - can we maybe meet up, I don't want to do this over the phone."

 

A long pause. Sam holds his breath. " _Sure, fine. Your place this Friday, 11:00._ "

 

"Okay. Yeah, okay. Thanks, Gabe."

 

" _Yeah, well, I could never say no to you._ " It sounds bitter, but there's another tone to it. A reluctant acceptance, maybe.

 

"You don't know what this means to me."

 

" _Don't I?"_ It's muttered, quiet enough for Sam to wonder whether he heard right.

 

The next thing he hears is the dial tone.

 

\--

 

6.

 

Friday comes quickly; almost too quickly in Sam's mind. He doesn't feel prepared to face Gabriel, not after seeing him once over the past two months. It's been a long healing process, and he needs the closure that he hopes the conversation will give.

 

He wipes his palms on his jeans, nervously eyeing the clock. Gabriel is set to arrive in five minutes, and Sam's standing awkwardly by the door.

 

He isn't deluded; he doesn't think this will end in him and Gabriel getting back together. But maybe they can salvage their relationship, maybe be friends at the very least? That's all Sam is letting himself hope for. He straightens one of the picture frames on the wall, one of the only ones left. It's of him and Dean as kids, sitting in front of their old house. After Gabriel had come by that first week to take his stuff, the only pictures remaining were  ones of Sam's family.

 

He wishes Gabriel had left at least one picture of them behind. Going completely cold turkey hadn't helped Sam get through it any easier.

 

The doorbell rings and Sam jumps, lost in thought. He opens the door to Gabriel, standing there with a sullen expression on his face. His hands are shoved in his pockets, and he's leaning against the wall opposite. Sam grins at him, looking so much like himself down to the small wrinkle between his forehead.

 

They stand there for a moment before Gabriel raises an eyebrow, glancing past Sam into the apartment. "So, you gonna let me in, or are we doing this in the hallway?"

 

Sam flushes, reaching back to awkwardly scratch the back of his neck. With a sheepish grin, he steps back, giving Gabriel room to come inside.

 

They both make their way to the kitchen, where Sam offers Gabriel a cup of coffee. He declines, and the room settles into an awkward silence. Sam taps his fingers against the table before stumbling into speech.

 

"We need to talk about what happened. Because you did a lot of talking, and I did a lot of listening, but not a lot really got said."

 

"That was deep," Gabriel says dryly, folding his arms on the table. Sam rolls his eyes.

 

"But really, I just want to get it all out in the air. And I'm also wondering why you wouldn't give me another chance."

 

Gabriel just shrugs, rolling his neck. "Because it'd gone on for too long, I suppose. I was tired of waiting for the other shoe to drop."

 

"What other shoe?" Sam asks, confused.

 

"When you got tired of this, of me. It was bound to happen; we were burning out."

 

Gabriel stops talking, fingers tapping agitatedly on the table. Sam's completely dumbfounded, trying to process the words.

 

"Wait, let me see if I got this right... You broke up with me because you thought we were gonna be over soon anyway, so you wanted to be the one to end it?"

 

Gabriel nods slowly, still looking unconcerned and detached. Sam envies him that. He knows his own face must be broadcasting every emotion he's feeling; namely, confusion and betrayal. He doesn't even know where to begin picking apart Gabriel's words, and he stands there for a moment before sinking into the kitchen chair, hands running through his hair.

 

"Gabriel, I wasn't gonna end it. I hadn't even considered it. Yeah, I had been busy for a couple months, but it's law school. Not exactly easy to get through. And you were my escape. I wasn't planning on ending it anytime soon. That was all you."

 

Gabriel doesn't respond, staring down at the table. Sam shakes his head slowly; they'd broken up because Gabriel was scared of them breaking up, of Sam rejecting him. Never mind that Sam could never reject him, never give him up.

 

"Maybe this is a good thing, us ending it. Because if we were that out of communication with each other, maybe we shouldn't have been a couple." Gabriel doesn't move but Sam watches as his fingers whiten on the edge of the table. They're silent for a little longer, neither of them sure where to go next.

 

"Damn, we're fucked up," Gabriel says, laughing without humor. His voice sounds completely devoid of emotion, but Sam likes to think he knows him a little better than that. Gabriel wasn't ever good at hiding emotion from his eyes, and they look empty and bleak.

 

Sam agrees with him. "I don't even - I don't know what to say. I could try and tell you how wrong you are about this. about us, but you won't even listen." Gabriel flinches at that, refusing to look Sam in the eye. He lets out a huff of breath, moving to sit down opposite Gabriel. "This is shitty," he mutters, Gabriel making a noise of agreement. Sam's fingers tap against the table as he thinks of where to go next. "I mean, I thought I'd done something to push you away, that it was all me. And now this."

 

"I'm not apologizing for it, if that's what you're looking for." Gabriel crosses his arms, leaning back in the chair and staring defiantly at Sam. He doesn't look like he would ever capitulate, and Sam internally groans. "I did what I thought I had to do. And don't give me that bullshit about us not growing apart."

 

Sam stares at him, eyes squinting over at where Gabriel sits. "Sorry? What do you even mean by that?"

 

"Sam, I was coming in second! To school, to your social life, to your job - and yes, I know, it's hard. But guess what? It wasn't all that easy on this end either. I'm an EMT for the night shift, kiddo, I work late hours and sleep during the day. I'm practically nocturnal." Gabriel drums his fingers on the tabletop, glaring at Sam. The fire in his eyes isn't as strong anymore, and his words don't match his expression.

 

He hurls accusations and explanations at Sam, twisting and hurtful, but his eyes are desperate, almost begging for a hope to hold on to.

 

"Sam, over the course of a month we saw each other barely thirty hours. We talked for even less than that. Forgive me for wanting out!" Gabriel stops when his voice crescendos, reverberating off the walls and echoing in the silence that follows. In a quieter voice he continues. "There was only so much I could handle."

 

"Gabriel, you never said anything. I didn't even know you felt like I was pushing you away until a minute ago." Sam drugs his fingers into his temples, gritting his teeth. Neither of them speak. Sam laughs self-deprecatingly, rubbing at his eyes.

 

"I'm sorry." Gabriel's voice is quiet, and he's resolutely not looking at Sam. His head falls into his folded arms, muffling his next words.  "I didn't -"

 

"Didn't what? Think I loved you? Didn't think I wanted to be with you?" Sam says, frowning. It was strange, he supposed. To think something was your own fault, before hearing the full story. Gabriel still wasn't looking at him, and Sam sighed.

 

"Because I do." Gabriel's head rises slowly, fixing Sam with an apprehensive stare. His eyes are guarded, but San can detect a glimmer of hope in them. He continues, staring right back at Gabriel. "Present tense."

 

"But why? Especially after all that. And you just said-"

 

"Maybe we can start again. As friends, nothing more. At least, not yet." Sam watches as the apprehension bleeds away from Gabriel's face to be replaced with caution.

 

"You'd actually want to?" Gabriel asks, running a hand through his hair. Sam nods slowly at first, then more emphatically. "Start over. With me."

 

Sam shrugs helplessly. "I mean, I am still kinda in love with you. Why not, right?" And it's true. He doesn't resent Gabriel, but it'll definitely be a lot harder to trust him fit a while. It'll be better if they get to know each other again, and maybe they'd even come out the stronger for it. Worst case scenario, they end up where they did last time, and then they'll know they would have never worked.

 

Gabriel nods too, slow smile forming as he grins up at Sam. "I'd like that."

 

Sam stands up from the table and goes around it, reaching Gabriel's side. He stands as well, looking determinedly up at Sam. Sam grins, lopsided, and sticks out a hand to Gabriel. Gabriel's eyes flick between Sam's hand and his face, eyes narrowing in confusion.

 

"Hi, I'm Sam Winchester. Nice to meet you."

 

"Gabriel Novak. And, uh, same to you." Gabriel's eyes twinkle up at Sam, and he grabs Sam's hand with his own, giving it a firm shake. "Gotta say, Winchester, you've got a great ass."

 

Sam laughs, letting go of his hand. "Haven't changed at all, Novak."

 

Gabriel smiles softly at that, looking down. "I'd argue with that. Personally, I think I changed for the better, thanks to you, Sam." He looks up, winking at Sam. "So, Winchester, was a catch up over some coffee?"

 

Sam smiles, opening the door for Gabriel as they leave the apartment. "I'd love that."

 

They've got a long way to go, sure. But they'll make it there. Sam knows it. So he gives a smile as he throws his arm around Gabriel's shoulders on the way to the cafe, basking in the light of the sun.

 

This is their second chance, his and Gabriel's, and he's determined to make it count with all he's got.

 

\--

_Someone help us 'cause we're doing our best_

_Trying to make it work, but, man, these times are hard_

_But we're gonna start by drinking on cheap bottles of wine_

_Sit talking up all night, saying things we haven't for a while, a while, yeah_

_We're smiling but we're close to tears, even after all these years_

_We just now got the feeling that we're meeting_ **for the first time.**

_\--_

 


End file.
